Sweet Deals

Dark Chocolate

Pic Credit: AlexanderStein/Pixabay.com

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In the beginning the Lord created chocolate and saw that it was good,

Then He separated the light from the dark, and found it was better.

~ Unknown ~

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A week had passed since the night Swara had met the stranger and yet he occasionally strayed into her thoughts. She had read the note over so many times that it was engraved in her mind and she did not even have to close her eyes to visualise it –his penmanship was a neat, cursive hand sloping to the right, with bold and firm strokes and in a perfect straight line. What further enhanced the effect was the fact that he had used a fountain pen to write that note; in an age dominated by tech gadgets such as cellphones and tablets, it made a potent statement. She recalled a poem she had read; 'Let the pen glide like gently rolling stream; Restless, but yet unwearied and serene; Forming and blending forms, with graceful ease; Thus, letter, word and line are born to please.'

She could not recollect his face or any specific feature, the only thing she had actually noticed were his hands when he taken the cup of coffee from her. 'And very attractive hands they were,' she thought, 'With long tapering fingers and manicured nails, hands that were capable of holding someone firmly and tenderly, hands that could pick somebody from the ground and not leave a mark, hands that would warm against...' alarmed at these wayward thoughts, she shook her head, 'it was no use walking down the path which leads to nowhere.'  With that firm admonishment to her mind, she set up focusing on her daily routine.

At twenty four years of age, Swara was not a girl prone to daydreaming; she had her feet firmly planted on the ground. She was convinced that owing to the decision taken by her in the past; the simple expectations from life, like love, marriage, family, were not on the cards for her. She accepted that fact as her due and did not waste any time on frivolous hopes. She knew that there was no way the stranger might walk into the bakery again and even if he did, it would mean little. But still, he did keep returning to her thoughts and she let him linger there, fighting it only appeared to make his presence more tangible than she cared for.

She had so firmly made peace with her thoughts, that a few days later, on a summery afternoon, when he did step into the bakery, Swara did not recognize him, till he smiled and said, "One Cappuccino, please." She smiled and immediately made a cup for him, which he took to the table and sat in silence, savoring his coffee. He appeared to be staring at the window, which afforded a splendid view of the garden filled with wonderful specimens of flowering summer plants.

If Swara had been unsettled by thoughts of him, his presence left her quite flustered; to her surprise she found herself glancing at him often and was slightly disappointed that each time she did, he would be looking out of the window. In an attempt to check her inconsistent feelings, she decided to shift her focus to the next book on her reading list and was soon lost in its pages; till the stranger stepped up to the counter to settle his account.

As soon as he left, Swara rushed to the table where he had been sitting at and hesitantly, as though afraid of being further disappointed, she lifted the saucer, not daring to hope and almost dropped the plate when she saw a folded note; she put the plate back on the table and opened the note; it read 'A cup of coffee shared with a friend is happiness tasted and time well spent. Could we be friends?' ~ Sanskaar.